


Concussion Checks

by taylor_tut



Category: Camp Camp (Web Series)
Genre: Concussions, Family Fluff, Gen, Head Injury, Injury, Sickfic, Whump, hurt david, max is a good boy
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-09-20
Updated: 2018-09-20
Packaged: 2019-07-14 16:29:03
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,167
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16044206
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/taylor_tut/pseuds/taylor_tut
Summary: The kids take a prank too far and Max can't shake worrying about David even after he goes back to his tent. He goes to check on him, partially out of guilt and partially because he actually cares about his tall dumb camp dad





	Concussion Checks

Even Max had to admit that he’d possibly gone too far this time. He hadn’t expected a stupid rube goldberg machine that Neil had whipped up before lunch to pack such a punch, but in a series of near-unbelievable separate working prank parts, David had stepped into the mess hall, been grabbed by the ankle, and soared through the air, circling around several obstacles and through a few embarrassing things like glitter and feathers before coming to dangle from the ceiling light. 

The only thing that Neil had forgotten to account for was the initial fall, so any enjoyment the kids may have gotten out of watching the prank had been dampened by the sickening crack that David’s head had made as it smacked against the hardwood floor before the rope around his leg had picked him up. 

For a horrifying second, Max had thought they’d knocked him unconscious, or worse, killed him, but after mere seconds of getting his bearings, David blinked a few times, his eyes rolling around in his head dizzily, and groaned. 

“What just happened?” he asked, but before anyone could answer him, Gwen burst through the door and gasped when she saw him hanging from the rafters. 

“Get him down right now!” she shouted, which kicked Neil into action untying the ropes. It took most of the campers’ combined weights tugging against the rope to make sure he was lowered slowly to the ground, where Gwen knelt down next to him. 

“Kids, you are in so much trouble,” Gwen warned. “No desserts for a week, and everyone is spending the day writing apology cards for David.” 

“Gwen,” David moaned, sitting up slowly and swaying in place, “ow.” He reached up and rubbed the place he’d hit his head with a fierce wince, and Gwen looked him over, grimacing. 

“That’s a pretty good bump you’ve got,” she told him, “does it hurt?” He flinched when she put even just ghosting pressure over it, and she sighed. “I’ll take that as a yes.”

“It’s fine,” David reassured unconvincingly. He still hadn’t seemed to get his balance, and the lights were beginning to hurt his eyes. 

“You should go get some rest,” she said, helping him stand up and feeling a little relief wash over her when he was fully able to do it himself, if a bit unsteadily. “I can keep them busy with punishments for as long as it takes for that headache to go away—it’s only fair.” To her surprise, David didn’t object. He must be in considerable pain to not fight for why the kids needed love and encouragement, not punishment, and that maybe a song would help lift everyone’s spirits. 

“Okay,” he said uncertainly, “but you come get me if you need me.”

Gwen rolled her eyes. “Don’t worry, they’re gonna be very good,” she said, grabbing Nurf by the neck with one hand and Max with the other, “AREN’T they?”

All the children nodded nervously, so David left the mess hall to lie down in his cabin. 

Max couldn’t shake the anxious feeling that they’d really fucked David up this time. Really, they’d wanted to inconvenience him, but none of the kids would want to genuinely harm him. A sick kind of feeling nestled in his gut, one he wasn’t used to—guilt? It was strange, unusual, uncomfortable, and he wanted it gone.

“Aren’t people supposed to stay awake if they’ve got a concussion?” Max asked twenty minutes into breakfast, and Gwen’s jaw dropped. 

“You think you gave him a CONCUSSION?” she asked incredulously, and Max shifted his food around on his plate. 

“Probably not,” he said, “but your incompetent ass didn’t check him over for one, so…” He trailed off, waiting for her response. 

“And how exactly would I check him for a concussion?” 

“It was in your fuckin’ first aid lecture,” Max replied, and Gwen bit down on a smile. 

“Then why don’t you go check him over?” she asked, and his face showed unbridled horror. 

“Fuck no,” he replied, “absolutely not.”

She shrugged. “Does making him an ‘I’m sorry’ card really sound better?” she asked, and he allowed only a beat to pass before standing up from the table with a huff.

“If I kill him, you now have prior knowledge,” he warned, “which makes you an accessory.”

Gwen rolled her eyes. “Get going, Dr. Gremlin,” she called after him as he exited the mess hall toward David’s tent. 

 

When Max threw open the door, David was sitting hunched over a book at his desk, seeming not to even notice the arrival of a new occupant.

“That doesn’t look like resting,” Max accused, causing David to jump, which caused him to wince. 

“Max,” David greeted, sounding a bit confused, “weren’t you supposed to be doing camp activities?”

He shrugged. “I’m only here because Gwen asked me to keep you alive,” he said. It wasn’t entirely true, but not entirely false, either. 

“I’m not going to die,” David reassured, laughing just a little. “I’ve just got a bit of a headache.”

“Then why the fuck are you doing work?” Max asked, tugging the book out from under David to reveal that it was, indeed, a lesson plan for the next week’s worth of activities. 

“I figured since I had some free time—”

“It’s not free time,” Max cut him off, “it’s sick leave, because we ran your fuckin’ head into the ground. Look at the light!” 

“Ow, Max!” David exclaimed, flinching away from the flashlight Max suddenly flashed into his eyes. 

“Your pupils are fine,” Max muttered, “so don’t be a baby. Who’s the camp founder?”

David blinked. “Mr. Campbell, of course,” he replied cheerfully, “why are you—”

“What year is it?”

“It’s 2018. Max, I—”

“Walk with your feet one in front of the other, like a sobriety test.”

David stood to obey, talking in a straight line across the room. “Why do you know what a sobriety test is?” he asked, and Max rolled his eyes. 

“Shitty parents, raised by television, no supervision, do you want to take your pick?”

David arrived to the edge of the bed, and Max seemed satisfied with his effort, so he sat down. 

“Well, it doesn’t look like we knocked your brains clean out,” he grumbled, “but we’ll try again in half an hour. Sometimes concussion symptoms can be latent.”

“You were paying attention in first aid class,” David observed, a wide grin breaking out across his face. 

“Whatever,” Max neither confirmed nor denied. “Just go to sleep. If I stay in here, Gwen won’t make me do arts and crafts.” While David wanted to argue that he should be with his friends, Max never did anything he didn’t want to do, so he figured there must be some kind of subtext reason that he was staying. Maybe it was an apology. Either way, he figured he’d let the kid hang out until dinner, when he planned to go back to camp. For now, he’d take a nap.


End file.
